“Who cares? I’ve already forgotten.” I look up at his eyes. “Like everything else about you, it’s really none of my business.”
r />
His face turns to granite. “Fine,” he says, “You want to leave, let’s go.” He brings out his phone to call the chauffeur, and the limo arrives almost immediately. I get in, staying on my side of the car, and looking determinedly out of the window. Tomorrow, I’ll be back home, I keep telling myself, and then I can put him, all this, behind me. I’ll never have to see him again.
The thought of never seeing him again hurts so much, my eyes start to ache with unshed tears.
At the Rosemont Royal, I leave him in the car and hurry through the lobby, getting to the elevator before he catches up with me. When he joins me, I move as far away from him as I can, keeping my eyes on the display panel. I can feel his eyes on me, but I ignore him.
As soon as the elevator doors open to the suite, I start to walk towards my room.
“Rachel.” His voice makes me stop in my tracks.
Slowly, I turn to face him. “What?”
He sighs. “Look, whatever Sinclair said to you… I’m sorry. I’m the one he hates, not you, and he really doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah… and neither do I, or this… whatever it is we’re doing. It doesn’t matter, because by tomorrow, we’ll be back home and it’ll be over.” I sigh, “Which is for the best anyway.”
He is silent for a long moment. “If you’re so eager for it to end,” he says finally, his voice cold, “we don’t have to wait till tomorrow.”
“Is that what you want?” I demand. “Is that why you told me so bluntly how your nightmares are none of my business and then spent the rest of the night flirting with every single socialite in San Francisco?”
“First of all, Yes, I believe my nightmares are my problem. I’ve dealt with them for twenty years. And to answer your question, I have spoken with people - therapists, doctors, name it - and they haven’t helped a damn. I didn’t ask for your pity, Rachel, and I don’t need it.”
I’d asked because I cared. I really cared, and to hear him dismiss it as pity is hurtful.
He’s not done. “And I wasn’t ‘flirting’ with anyone. So there’s no reason for you to be jealous.”
“There’s no reason for me to be jealous,” I retort, angry at myself because he was right I had been jealous. “Why would I be? You’re just some guy I’m having sex with, for now.”
His jaw tightens and I falter. The words are so far off from what I really feel that I almost take them back, but my resentment wins and I don’t.
“Thanks for clearing that up,” he says quietly.
I fold my arms, stubbornly meeting the anger in his eyes. “It should never have been in doubt.”
“Of course not,” his movements are jerky as he starts to loosen his tie. “After all, only a few days ago you were entertaining your ex-boyfriend. Were you ironing out your issues? Deciding that you’d made a mistake agreeing to come here with me? Arranging how to get back together once this pesky little situation with me was out of the way?”
“Maybe we were,” I spit at him.
His face hardens. “Then you must be a glutton for punishment,” he says scornfully. “Why don’t you go to him now? Pack your bags, the plane will take you to join him wherever he is. You might have to compete with another woman for his attention, but it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”
The things he’s saying, the disdain in his voice…. I swallow my hurt. “Fuck you, Landon.” Turning on my heel, I start to leave, but he stops me with a hand at my waist, pulling me against his body.
“I have and I will,” he grates. “You’re not going anywhere, Rachel. You’re going to stay here and I’m going to make you come, over and over, with my hands and my mouth, and then I’ll fuck you properly just to remind you that when you’re with me, there’s no room for him.”
With his proximity and his words, my body has already turned to liquid desire, but I’d rather die than give in to him. “Why are you so concerned about him,” I ask heatedly. “Why do you care so much?”
“Why?” he threads his fingers in my hair and lifts my face to his. With his other hand, he gathers my dress up, his fingers finding their way between my legs. “Because right now, you’re mine.”
His fingers start to stroke me through my panties, the sensual gleam in his eyes, telling me that he’s aware of how wet I already am, how much I want him, even now. His fingers move and my hips grind involuntarily. “I’m not yours,” I spit at him.
“Aren’t you?” He pulls the crotch of my panties aside, his fingers moving over my wet sex. “You’re so turned on,” he continues, before plunging his fingers inside me, making me gasp in shock and pleasure. With his other hand, he unzips my dress, freeing the bodice enough to pull it down along with my strapless bra. My breasts are heaving, the pink tips fully extended. A sound escapes him, the mixture of aggravation and arousal equal to what I’m feeling. “Does he make you feel like this?” Landon continues, his fingers driving me crazy. “Does he make you so hungry to fuck even when you know you should be angry?”
I can’t think past his fingers inside me, his hot mouth as he bends to take a nipple between his lips. But I’m not ready to let go of my anger. “Maybe he does,” I taunt, “maybe I’m thinking about him right now.”
His hand stiffens, and I feel his fingers press deeply inside me, until I can feel his knuckles pressing against the wet surface of my sex. Involuntarily, my hips roll, rubbing my body against his hand.